How she fell in love

Experience: I fell in love on the subway

'I wasn't in the habit of noticing men on the subway – but no one had been so memorable before'

'Weeks went by without a sighting and I felt darker and darker.' Photograph: Robin Twomey for the Guardian

My morning commute from Brooklyn to work in Manhattan usually followed the same pattern – keep your head down, your nose in a book, and try to survive the crowds. The 4 train, my subway line, is always very busy, taking commuters to Wall Street and midtown.
So when I sensed someone looking at me I felt annoyed. I looked up to see a tall, attractive man, but his eyes weren't focused on me – he was staring into space, with headphones on. Among all the businessmen, his casual outfit of grey woolly hat, navy coat and jeans stuck out.
I wasn't in the habit of noticing men on the subway – of course, you see people come and go, but no one had been so memorable before. As the weeks went by, I began to search him out – he was so tall I could spot him by looking for his head above the crowd. It helped that we were creatures of habit and both headed for the front of the first carriage.
Twice a week I'd see him and always when I was running late. After the third time, he looked back, and from then on we would exchange glances but nothing more. At work I'd mention to my friends if I had seen my "subway crush", but I didn't let myself fantasise about him – the chances of us ever actually talking, let alone living happily ever after, were so remote that it would be foolish to dream. But I looked forward to seeing him, and was glad when I noticed he wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
Then disaster struck. He disappeared. Weeks went by without a sighting and I felt darker and darker. After a month, I vowed that if I ever saw him again, I had to say something; it might be my only chance.
On a wintry Monday last January, I was stranded on the platform, knee-deep in snow, fretting because I hadn't managed to get on to the packed train, when he materialised next to me. "I've got snow in my pants," he said and did a shimmy. We both laughed and then began to chat. As we boarded the next train, I was aware that everyone around us was eavesdropping, so I felt self-conscious but also thrilled. We had lots in common and the conversation flowed. The only problem was that he was giving me all the right signs that he was interested but he didn't ask for my number. As my stop approached, I realised it was now or never – I had to do something. The train pulled in, and I shoved my business card in his hand and leapt off.
As I dashed away, heart pounding, I felt a mixture of elation and mortification. Why didn't he ask for my number? Had I been too pushy? Friends at work reassured me and I waited for his call.
In New York, the etiquette of when to call is clear – within a few days and definitely before the weekend. By the end of the week he still hadn't, so when I saw him on the train I tried to hide. It was obvious that he didn't want to go out with me. To my dismay, he came over and started to chat. I decided I was clearly a pity case to him, so when he asked what I was doing at the weekend, I made myself sound hugely busy and super-cool to hide my hurt pride. Unsurprisingly, he didn't mention meeting up.
Then, on the Monday, he emailed, asking me out. I was delighted. I don't normally like dating – the nerves, the awkwardness, that stilted first conversation – but I was nothing but excited to see Josh and the evening went wonderfully. We ended up going on to his brother-in-law's birthday party and I met his family. It didn't feel strange or nerve-racking; it felt natural.
We moved in together 10 months later and married last September. As a nod to where we met, we had a subway train on top of the cake and the tables were named after different train lines – ours was the 4 train, naturally. We joke that we'll name our first child Nevin, after Nevins St station.
Josh has since told me that after I gave him my card, he was hugely flattered – he was planning to call me that Friday, but after bumping into me and hearing how "busy" I was, he decided to wait until Monday to make contact.
Getting together felt like kismet – it was destined to happen. We unravelled all the random events that led us to be on that same train together and marvel that we ever met. We still take the 4 train into work, but now we sit together.
• As told to Emily Cunningham
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